Diamond (Nano practise)

Another short peice of projectile vomiting. :)


DIAMOND

Toby Shipley let himself into the flat. It was the only way, now.

He called out to her anyway, as he made his way through the dark rooms, a fine layer of dust covering everything. He wondered if he should take the time to get out the polish and a cloth and clean the p[lace up a bit, especially the horrible grey film over the mirrors that made him look as though he was looking at himself through a veil, or that he was ghost.

He decided he didn't have the time, and Isabella wouldn't care. Not when she couldn't even blink.

He dusted everything he touched, however. He couldn't go about rubbing his fingers in the dust and then getting it all over his clothes. He dusted the kettle, the tap, washed down the kitchen tops with a bit of kitchen towel while he waited for the kettle to boil. He got out his mug, the one he chose on one of the first nights he came round to Issy's flat - the faded Thomas the Tank Engine one that had belonged to Isabella's son, Paul. Paul was in America now and didn't know anything of what was happening in his absence. Best not to, really, with his Canadian girlfriend and that baby on the way, and their dog, who was called Polly.

Toby drank the tea, sitting in one of Isabella's armchairs, dusty and uncared for, they had that nasty clammy feel when he ran a hand over the blue material, flipping through an old TV mag, reading three week old articles and reviews of programmes finished last week. He brought it with him last time he came to visit.

At last he went upstairs, after quietly washing his cup out and replacing it in the cupboard. "Is?" he called as he walked up the stairs, one hand on the dark wooden bannister, feet creaking on the aging steps. He knocked on her bedroom door as he entered her room, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to call out to him. Hell, she probably wouldn't be able to hear him come in.

"Hello, Isabella. How are you? Look, I brought you a new bangle." He took the silver trinket out of its red velvet box and slid it over her wrist. Cold to the touch and rigid. Transparent, but betraying the shapes of her fingernails, the veins running along the back of her hand. "Well, what do you think?" He looks up at her face to guage her reaction. Isabella is frozen in mid breath, her eyes wide, her expression vaguely surprised. He sometimes wonders if she knew what has happening to her at the last second. He has the impression that she is still alive in there, still thinking, but unseeing and unhearing, all her nerves petrified.

Toby brushes her away from around her face. Tiny crystaline shards, little diamond tubes, so thin they are soft to the touch, almost like real hair. "You're beautiful," he breathes.

How do you destroy a diamond?